Today, I wanted to share with you a peek at where my
research has sent me for a new series, titled KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER for EC.

In ROPE ME IN (http://www.jasminejade.com/p-10088-rope-me-in.aspx), the first in the series out now at
EC, my heroine, Cara Ford, is about to open a new shop in a tiny Texas town
where the men are good and plenty~and the women wear only smiles. Cara wants to
spice up the sedate little clothing store on Main Street where her auntie has
presided over the women’s fashion for more than fifty years. Auntie Bree has a
few outdated ideas about what the females in this town should have.

Cara Ford has a few modern ones!

Here, so that you can “shop” with Cara (and empty your
wallet!) are a few of the great websites and blogs:

What’s a girl to do when she has
the hots for the local sheriff—and he’s playing it cool? Mae Montaine knows the man has a gun in his pocket
and he’s always happy to see her.

So why won’t he come over and see
her sometime…for a date? A hug? A kiss? More?

West Farraday yearns for the
All-American knock-out who lives next door, but Mae’s got problems and secrets.
He’d love to help her out…of her problems. And her clothes. Then into his bed.

When timing seems right, West makes
his move. He’s happier than a colt in clover.

Mae’s skeptical they can make it as
a couple. After all, town gossip says the good sheriff is hard on the ladies.

But when three bad coyotes invade Mae’s life, West tries to
prove to her that a man who’s hard in the sack can be easy to love.

Excerpt:
(Copyright 2012, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved.)

Something was burning.

August in Texas meant crispy grass,
drought and wild fires—and West Farraday had no desire to see his house burn to
the ground. Where was that smoke coming
from?

He lifted his nose and tracked the
smell of charcoal, then startled when he saw red flames rise over the top of
his tall wooden fence.

A barbeque pit out of control? Not
good!

“Aw, hell!” No need to think.He’d learned from previous incidents that his
new neighbor was an East Coast gal with no clue how to survive in Texas.
Hightailing it into his kitchen, he pulled open the pantry door and grabbed the
fire extinguisher. He pivoted, broke into a run, charged through his gate and
darted for the tiny house next door.

Mae Montaine. Mae from New Jersey.
Mae of the flowing, dark-chocolate hair and aquamarine eyes. Mae of the creamy
skin, the voluptuous breasts and curvy legs. The fillings in his molars melted
every time she sashayed past him. Mae, that gorgeous klutz, had gotten herself
in a pickle again. And he was her handy dandy neighbor, ready at the draw.

Jumping her waist-high chain-link
fence, he instantly saw her problem. Not only was she staring at the leaping
fire in her potbellied grill, but she jumped up and down, screeching, doing
nothing to contain the blaze.

“Move!” he yelled at her as he
thrust one arm out and pushed her behind him. Then he let loose with the foam,
dousing the five-foot tall flames and cursing beneath his breath.

He spun to check where Mae’s niece
was. There. He breathed more easily.
In her playpen by the door stood little Emma, grinning her welcome to him.

“Oh, oh, that’s wonderful,” Mae
cooed in the raspy contralto that ignited wild fires along his spine and had
him stealing a glimpse of her loveliness. “That’s terrific. I didn’t know what
to do. I had no idea. How did this happen? Who knew? Oh, you are so good to do
this. How can I ever thank you?”

I
know one way. “Don’t
think about it,” he offered as he continued to spray the flames, keeping his
gaze on the fire even if his mind sizzled with the glimpse he’d gotten of her
skimpy top and shorts.

“I don’t know what I did wrong. I
was so careful.” She fretted and fumed, her firm breasts brushing his arm as
she leaned forward to peer at his efforts. “I’m so grateful you even noticed.”

He snorted. How could I not? “I was home. Outside working on my lawn. This
could have been a real disaster.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a wee
voice. “I thought I knew how to do this. Build a fire, that is. You must think
I’m a mess.”

“Truly?” He threw her a smile and
the one he got in return dissolved his urge to scold her. The most gorgeous mess I’ve ever seen. “A bit accident prone.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said beneath
her breath. “I don’t know what I would do without you. I guess you’re used to
saving people. Sheriffs do that, don’t they? You’ve saved me so many times
now.”

“Four.”

“That many? Maybe so. There was the
nail in my tire.”

“Your kitchen faucet blew its
gasket,” he reminded her, recalling Mae Montaine appearing at his front door
last Sunday morning in a white cotton sundress wet from nipples to knees. One
look at her display and his legs had turned into feathers. He’d had to brace
himself against his door jamb at the sight of her asking for help. Every one of
her lush curves had been defined in mouth-watering detail beneath the sodden,
transparent fabric. Including her round, puckered nipples.

“I’m grateful.” Her sensuous mouth
tipped up in a grin.“Really.”

So
was I. Better than an X-rated flick to see you in all your glory. “No worries, Mae. I was here. I
was available.” I am now certifiably
hooked on your looks and your humility.

“I’m trying so hard,” she fussed at
herself.

“Don’t. Just let yourself ease into
country life,” he consoled her, complementinghis words with a broad smile in her direction. But he froze. Her gaze
had been plastered to his naked back. When his eyes sought hers, her lashes
fluttered. Flustered? Interested? Maybe?

Do
not go there. He
ground his teeth. Then returned to his work. How one woman could have so many
challenges beat him. How he could be her savior so often thrilled him. Getting
close to her—within inches as he was now—made him hard. Made him drool. Made
him rein in his fantasy of having her sighing beneath him and remind himself of
how that was such a bad idea.

“And damn. All my wieners are
burnt!”

Mine
is too, lady.

“Plus, the neighbors will be so
scared. Because of the drought, the brush fires have been so terrible.“

“Doubt anyone else saw.”

“I feel awful. They’ll think I’m an
idiot.”

“No. No.” That’s what she had said
the first time he’dsaved her from
disaster. When was that? A month ago? He’d been outside then, too, heard her
yell in dismay and come barreling over the fence. She had stepped in a giant
mound of red ants and they had feasted on her feet. Her elegant feet. Her slim,
red-lacquered toes.

Shit.
Are you playing with a full deck, Farraday?

“Think I should go apologize to
them?”

“Who? The ants?”

“What? No, the neighbors.” She
waved a hand in the direction of the other houses around theirs. Her beautiful
breasts bobbed.

His brain sizzled like an egg in a
frying pan. Ah, Farraday, you have lost
your mind over this woman. “You don’t have to.”

“But I do. Oh, I do! They probably
think I’m a nitwit screaming for help every other day.”

She didn’t calm down quickly after
any of her disasters.

Just
call me your fireman, your handy man, your only….Enough. He bit his lower lip. Pain would bring him back to sanity.
“Look, Mae. You are fine. No one else is running over. The fire is almost under
control—“

“Thanks to you. What if you hadn’t
been home?”

“But I was.” Good for me.

“And now I don’t have anything else
for dinner.” She babbled on about this and that, while he did more damage
control and stepped forward to peer into the grill and check for any smoldering
embers.

Like
he wasn’t one himself.

“Thank you, Sheriff.” She laid a
hand on his and his skin melted.

What
the hell is wrong with you, Farraday?This is just one woman with
nice tits.And a great ass that would
fit just fine into your two palms. Up against you, your cock nestled between
her thighs.

Stop.
This.

“West,” he corrected her as he
worked on the pile of glowing coals. Get
a grip, man. Like most city slickers, she’s oblivious to the world. Sadly, to
you, too. Some folks are built like that, and you have to accept what you can’t
change. Take another woman to bed and squelch your own fires.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

From Plucking the Pearl by Afton Locke, published by Ellora's Cave 2012

Watching
the wet creature slide past the dark hairs of his moustache intrigued her in a
way she couldn’t explain. When
he bent forward to kiss her, she was too aroused to refuse. His
pale blue eyes came closer than they ever had and all she could do was stare
helplessly into them. It
was as if she floated higher and higher into the sky, never to set foot on firm
earth again. She
felt his moustache first, hot and coarse, and then his lips, cooler and wetter.
As
his mouth worked over hers, something pushed between her lips.